I n W onderland
BBC CHILDREN’S BOOKS
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First published 2024 001
Written by Paul Magrs
Copyright © BBC , 2024
BBC , DOCTOR WHO and TARDIS (word marks and logos) are trade marks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence. BBC logo © BBC 1996. DOCTOR WHO logo © BBC 1973. Licensed by BBC Studios
The moral right of the author and copyright holders has been asserted
Set in 11.5/15.5pt Bembo Book MT Pro Typeset by Jouve (UK ), Milton Keynes Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.
The authorized representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin, D 02 YH 68
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN : 978–1–405–96989–5
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BBC Children’s Books
Penguin Random House Children’s UK One Embassy Gardens, 8 Viaduct Gardens London SW 11 7BW
Penguin Random Hous e is committed to a sustainable future for our business, our readers and our planet. is book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
This book about Wonderland is dedicated with love to my sister Louise and my niece, Emma.
Chapter One
Theboy had been trapped on planet Earth for so long that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to voyage across outer space.
He had been eleven years old when he was first dropped off in London by his people. There, he came under the care of a strange, elderly solicitor. Shortly after that, he was dumped at some supposedly fancy boarding school in the countryside, which turned out to be full of dull, idiotic people he had quickly come to despise. Why were Earth people so boring? It was all filling out forms, doing exams and playing pointless games with them. As he grew up and became a teenager, Turlough began to lose hope of ever having any fun ever again.
By the time he was studying for his A levels, he was at his wits’ end. By then, he had become a skinny, acid-tongued, furious youth. He longed to rebel and cause some trouble – but how, exactly? And what was the point? He could run rings around his schoolmasters, who were a plodding, ancient lot. They all carried on as if they belonged to the Victorian era with their mortar boards and tweedy suits. This was the
1980s! Turlough had made several attempts to return to London and into the fun he imagined must be happening there, but they always dragged him back again.
Then came the day that he and his hopeless friend Hippo stole the maths teacher’s prized sports car and managed to escape. It gave them a brief, exciting moment of freedom! Whizzing down the country lanes at top speed, he had laughed – actually laughed! – for the first time in months, because he had managed to get beyond those vast, imposing school gates.
But then the stupid vehicle malfunctioned and he’d ended up in a ditch. The car was a write-off. It was just as well, because it had been a rubbish old thing anyway, really. However, the most important thing about the car crash was that, aside from receiving a mild concussion, Turlough had found himself in a bewilderingly strange dimension for a few moments, looking down upon the scene of the accident. There was everyone down below, fussing over the crumpled car and foolish, unharmed Hippo – and here was Turlough, hovering above them all.
Am I dead? he wondered silently, just as he became aware of a dark and terrible presence looming over him. It was hovering right beside him. He hardly dared look at the being who had come to haunt him. A claw-like hand was upon his shoulder and a dreadful voice was suddenly rumbling in his ear.
It was a voice that spoke to him cajolingly, telling him impossible things. A voice that belonged to a being who persuaded Turlough to make a terrible bargain. Turlough
In Wonderland was left with nothing but a small white, glowing crystal. It was the only proof he needed that his dark visitor was real. It was a reminder of the promise he had made.
Shivering, Turlough shook himself out of his awful reverie. No, it was no use dwelling on all of that. It was an entire week later and everything was different now. His whole life had changed, more than it had in years, and ultimately he was glad.
Now he was a traveller aboard the TARDIS . He was a crew member aboard a mysterious kind of time machine. It was an amazingly advanced craft that was much larger on the inside than the outside. This was unbelievably exciting, and he was doing everything he could to contain his glee and maintain an aloof and slightly superior attitude. But he had actually escaped! He had made a bargain and come through several awful ordeals and now here he was aboard this amazing vessel. All of time and space were his to explore!
There were, of course, a number of drawbacks and irritations, as there often were in his life.
First of all – and he didn’t want to dwell on it – there was the constant threat from the being whom he had first encountered in that weird dimension after the slight accident in the maths teacher’s car. But he wasn’t thinking about that just now. No, he could put all of that out of his mind. He was even trying to convince himself that it had all been just a bizarre dream.
The other complications in his immediate future had to do with his three travelling companions aboard the TARDIS .
As he wandered the seemingly endless corridors of the time ship, he made a list of them in his head. The TARDIS crew consisted of:
1. Nyssa, who was sweet and trusting. It almost embarrassed Turlough how easy she’d been to hoodwink into thinking he was just an innocent schoolboy with no ulterior motives or evil plans at all. She came from Traken or somewhere soppy like that, where everyone believed in peace and harmony. Naturally, the whole place had been blown up during some previous adventure and Nyssa was a homeless orphan, very much like Turlough. He supposed he found her endearing in a way.
2. Tegan, who was brash, argumentative and Australian. Turlough knew for a fact that she didn’t trust him an inch. She looked at him as if her eyes were drilling into him, like she was still trying to work him out. ‘I know you’re up to something,’ she had hissed at him several times when she thought no one else was about. He would have to work harder on winning her over.
3. Lastly, of course, there was the Doctor. He was younger than Turlough had expected. From what he’d been told, he had expected someone older and more wickedlooking. Someone easier to dislike. But the person in command of this ramshackle time-space vessel was a pleasant, affable young man who wore cricketing whites and had a stick of celery pinned to the lapel of his coat. He was sincere, brimming with enthusiasm and quite impossible to hate. Now that he had gotten to
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know the Time Lord a little, it was going to be extremely hard for Turlough to carry out his secret mission. But he knew he simply had to do as he was commanded. He had to find the right moment in which to murder the Doctor.
Turlough sighed heavily and paused in his exploration of the glowing labyrinth. What day was it? Tuesday? He’d always hated Tuesdays. They seemed more complicated and annoying than every other day of the week.
He opened an exceptionally plain white door, seemingly the same as every other door he had encountered on his explorations. But beyond this one lay the wonders of the TARDIS library.
Nyssa had announced hours ago that she was off to the library. She wanted to spend a few hours relaxing, away from the rigours of TARDIS travel. She desired to read something about bio-electronics or some such. Turlough hadn’t heard the exact details, but it sounded quite serious and complicated. He was pretty clever himself, and he had spent the past eight years trying to cover up the fact that he knew more about science than his schoolmasters ever would. In the case of Nyssa and the Doctor though, he knew he was in the presence of seriously clever people. Tegan was dopey, but she was shrewd.
‘You’re going to relax by reading about science?’ Tegan had laughed her braying laugh at Nyssa. ‘Why don’t you read something fun?’
Nyssa frowned as if the concept was alien to her. ‘Fun?’
The Doctor was looking concerned. ‘Yes, you must make sure you relax, Nyssa. We’ve been through some rather testing escapades just lately. You have to be careful not to over-tax the old grey matter, you know.’
Nyssa shrugged. ‘What would you suggest?’
‘I know . . .!’ Tegan had dashed off to fetch a beautiful first edition of a novel she had recently found in a cluttered, dusty corner of the TARDIS . ‘I read this when I was a kid. I just loved it. It’s an Earth classic! You’ve got to read it!’
Nyssa took the ancient hardback book, pulling a puzzled face. ‘Isn’t this a children’s book . . .?’
The Doctor beamed at her. ‘As a very wise man once said to me, “What’s the point in being grown-up if you can’t be childish sometimes?”, hmm?’ He took the book carefully and turned to an inscription on the fly-life. ‘Goodness, this is a first edition. Belonged to Victoria, I see.’ He handed it back to Nyssa. ‘Reading this will do you more good than any amount of bio-engineering abstracts.’
‘I wonder if I can find it in a data cube edition . . .’ Nyssa had pondered, and wandered off in the direction of the library. And now, several hours later, Turlough had discovered her, fast asleep on a comfortable sofa in the deepest corner of the room.
The TARDIS library was a magnificent place. It made Turlough hold his breath like he was in some amazing, sacred kind of space. Bookcases rose several storeys high towards a ceiling obscured by curling mist. There were tables and cosy chairs and golden-glowing lamps. Random heaps of books and periodicals of all kinds littered the place. Not just books,
In Wonderland
either – there were discs and cubes and all manner of futuristic devices designed to deliver text and information directly into the reader’s mind.
When Turlough crept closer to the sleeping Trakenite he realised that she had tried to read the book suggested by Tegan in several different formats. The hardback book was lying splayed open on the couch beside her. It did look like a very valuable volume indeed. Gingerly, Turlough picked it up.
‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,’ he read aloud. ‘By Lewis Carroll.’ Well, naturally he was aware of it. He’d never read it, of course. It looked like silly nonsense, kids’ stuff. He had avoided all the reading suggestions he had ever been given, just as he had refused to do most of the homework he had ever been set. The very thought of Tegan saying she had enjoyed reading this book was enough to set his teeth on edge. It must be a rotten old book to evoke happy memories in someone like her.
Still, Turlough felt compelled to flick through the pages of the vintage tome. It had elaborate line drawings, rather silly ones. There were birds, beasts and all kinds of weird, impossible things. No wonder it had made Nyssa nod off. It was probably giving her nightmares. He glanced down at the sleeping girl, but she seemed gently serene.
Turlough envied her. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages and – what with the way things were – he doubted he would rest well again any time soon.
Just then, as if on cue, he felt a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He almost dropped the heavy book in fright. A
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very deep, sepulchral voice boomed inside his head: ‘I am still here, boy. I haven’t forgotten you. I hope you haven’t forgotten the promise you made to me.’
Turlough found himself whining and squirming. ‘Leave me alone . . . please . . .!’
‘Never!’ roared the entity who had pursued him like a shadow. ‘You’re not getting away from me, boy. It’s time to get to work on the next phase of my plan.’ He snarled. ‘That decayed volume of ancient wisdom you are clutching in your feeble grasp has given me a rather good idea . . .’ The Black Guardian threw his head back and began to laugh demonically while the runaway schoolboy cringed in fear.
Chapter Two
The main control room of the TARDIS was a large, gleaming white space dominated by a multi-sided console. A column made of glass filled with sophisticated instrumentation rose and fell whenever the ship was in flight. It was doing so right now, quite serenely, as the crew went about their business, and the TARDIS tumbled through the vortex, that mysterious region where time and space were one.
To Turlough, the whole place looked like it could do with a bit of refurbishment. There were scorch marks and obvious damage recently caused by something called ‘the Cybermen’. Several buttons were missing and various dials and levers had broken off or got stuck when you tried to budge them. He studied the control panels carefully, trying to make sense of them all. In his hand, he was holding the white crystal he had received a week ago. When he held it in his palm, he could communicate directly with his master. The chunk of crystal glowed hotly, that awful voice reverberating inside his head: ‘Take out the book in its liquid form.’
Nyssa had found various editions of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland – paper, electronic and otherwise. Among them had
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been an intriguing little bottle. It was dark pink and labelled ‘Drink Me’. Turlough had pocketed it under instruction, but it was the kind of thing that would have caught his eye and ended up in his possession anyway. ‘How can a book come in the form of a solution?’ he asked the presence inside his mind.
‘This might prove to be the solution to both our problems,’ the ominous presence chuckled with a rare flash of dark humour.
Turlough removed the small stopper and sniffed the contents of the container. The stuff inside smelled like raspberry jam and custard! Jelly and cream cakes! Lemonade and sunshine! His hand trembled and he dropped it on to the console.
‘Foolish boy,’ laughed the being from within.
The dark rosy liquid had splashed on to the control panels and was fizzing as it evaporated. It seemed to be sinking into the shining metal of the console. The bottle had shattered on contact and its shards were scattered everywhere. Turlough swore and hissed at the white crystal: ‘You made me do that! You made me drop it . . .’
The creature in his head guffawed at the very suggestion. He was fading away now, as he often did when he decided that their conversation was at an end.
Turlough stared at the console, watching the last of the pink liquid somehow soak into the metal, and with a wisp of mist, it simply faded away. The time rotor made a decisive noise – almost a sigh of satisfaction – and began to descend. The TARDIS was shifting gear, slowing down. It was preparing to emerge from the vortex into normal spacetime, Turlough realised.
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The interior door flew open and the Doctor strode into the room. ‘We’re about to land!’ he beamed at his newest companion. He was so trusting, Turlough thought to himself. Was he really that foolish? Turlough felt shifty standing there alone at the console. Even he realised that he looked as if he was up to something.
‘Soon be there!’ the Doctor cried, examining various illuminated panels. ‘Hmmm.’
Then came the distinctive wheezing, groaning noise that Turlough recognised as the ship coming in to land. ‘Where are we?’ he asked the Time Lord.
‘I won’t know that until we’ve fully materialised,’ the Doctor replied.
‘You don’t even know . . .?’ Turlough tried his best to keep the scorn out of his voice.
‘Well, that’s half the adventure . . .’ the Doctor enthused. At this point, Nyssa and Tegan both arrived in the console room. Nyssa looked refreshed after her nap in the library, and Tegan looked cross as a result of whatever she had been getting up to. ‘Explain to Turlough,’ the Doctor said. ‘Tell him how much fun it is, never really knowing where we might end up.’
‘Oh, it’s a hoot,’ Tegan rolled her eyes.
‘It can be quite invigorating!’ Nyssa smiled. ‘What’s that strange smell . . .?’ She sniffed the air. There was still a trace of the gloopy fluid that Turlough had spilt. ‘It reminds me of . . .’ She drifted away, trying to catch the tail end of a memory.
‘Hey, how was the book?’ Tegan asked her friend. ‘Could you get into it?’
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Nyssa feigned enthusiasm. ‘Well, I found it quite confusing, to be honest. It was so illogical and strange. I couldn’t see why half the things were even happening . . .’
Tegan laughed at her perplexity. ‘That’s how it’s meant to be. It’s not supposed to make sense. I remember reading it when I was a kid, in the middle of nowhere on my father’s sheep farm. Books like Alice – especially Alice – were where I could escape to . . . away from all the monotony . . .’
The Doctor was bustling around the console. He produced his Panama hat and jammed it on to his long blond hair. ‘Enough time for reminiscences about the outback later!’ He laughed. ‘Right now, we’ve got somewhere new to explore.’
Turlough straightened his tie and buttoned up his blazer. ‘And where is that exactly . . .?’
Peering at the instruments, the Doctor was surprised to find some brittle shards of broken glass. Much of the bottle Turlough had smashed had vanished into the air, but these few pieces remained. They were sticky to the touch. ‘Hullo, what’s this?’ asked the Doctor. He took out a large spotted handkerchief and gathered the pieces up. All this mess was a bit close to the ultra-sensitive psychic circuits for his liking. Why did his companions have to be so messy?
‘According to the TARDIS , we’re on Earth in the nineteenth century,’ Nyssa told them all.
Tegan’s expression went dark. Nothing she’d seen in her previous visit to the nineteenth century made her want to return to it.
‘Earth?’ Turlough sneered. He had been longing to see other worlds again and to put as much distance as possible
In Wonderland between himself and this poky backwater planet that thought so much of itself.
The Doctor absent-mindedly popped the hanky full of glass shards into his coat pocket and stared at the instruments. ‘Oh! Now, this is something of an amazing coincidence. You know, it’s really quite remarkable. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that the old girl had been listening in on our recent conversations.’
Turlough was puzzled. ‘What “old girl”?’
Tegan laughed. ‘It’s what the Doctor calls the TARDIS . He behaves like she’s a real person. I thought he was crazy at first . . .’
The Doctor glared at her. ‘But now you know better, hmm?’ He activated the door control with a tender pat.
Tegan laughed and followed the Doctor, who was leading the others out through the TARDIS doors.
They emerged into brilliant autumn sunshine, which made them blink and smile. Trees rustled overhead and the battered blue police box shell of the TARDIS had materialised beside the entrance of a park. They faced out on to a bustling street, where horses and carriages and people in stiff Victorian clothes were all too busy or much too well-mannered to notice the arrival of a mysterious time machine.
Turlough was still getting used to the oddity of travelling inside something no larger than a confessional box or a phone booth. ‘It’s so . . . incongruous,’ he muttered.
‘That’s why we like it.’ The Doctor smiled at him, locking the doors securely.
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Tegan was studying the spires and rooftops around them. They seemed ancient and well-preserved to her. ‘Are we in London?’ she asked.
‘Oxford,’ the Doctor told her. ‘That’s why I said it’s as if the TARDIS had been listening to our conversation. This is Oxford, 1862. And that, if I’m not very much mistaken, is the entrance to Christ Church college.’
Nyssa joined them to study the buildings. ‘Isn’t this where I was just reading about?’
‘More or less,’ the Doctor told her. ‘It’s where that story all began, at any rate.’
‘But isn’t that a bit weird?’ Tegan said. ‘I mean, if you’re right about the TARDIS listening . . . that creeps me out a little bit.’
The Doctor looked hurt. ‘Creeps you out?’ He dashed back to stroke the side of his police box. ‘Never mind, old girl. Don’t listen to her.’
Turlough stared at his companions with disbelief. They were all enjoying their banter enormously. To him it seemed very silly and a waste of precious time. ‘What are we going to do here?’ he asked.
‘Do?’ The Doctor smiled. ‘Why, we shall explore! Let’s take a stroll, shall we?’
He turned first one way, and then the next, as if testing the air with an expert nose for the ideal route to take. Deciding upon the best direction, he set off briskly up a cobbled lane between narrow houses. Turlough hurried after him, wondering if the two women were dressed altogether appropriately for this historical era.
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‘Stop dallying behind, Turlough!’ called the Doctor, as if he was leading a tour party. ‘You know, I haven’t been here since the nineteen fifties,’ the Time Lord mused. ‘I wonder if it’s changed much?’
They mooched about for much of that morning, peering into the windows of interesting-looking buildings and rummaging in bookshops. They paused on a bridge and looked down into the bronze waters and drifting green weed. Nyssa was staring at the passing boats. ‘Oh! I’d love to do that. What do you call that?’
‘Boating?’ Turlough laughed. ‘Punting? Are you saying you’ve never seen anyone punting before?’
She shook her head. Nyssa was sometimes self-conscious about her limited experiences growing up on Traken. Some of the things her companions in the TARDIS took for granted were entirely novel to her.
‘Well!’ the Doctor said. ‘Before we leave here we must see that you take a trip up the river, Nyssa. You’ll love it, I’m sure. How do you feel about punting, Turlough?’
‘He doesn’t look the type to me,’ Tegan said snippily.
‘I’ll have you know I’m sure I’d be rather good at it!’ he replied hotly. ‘I’ve got marvellous coordination.’
Tegan rolled her eyes and led the way to a little shop she had spotted across the road. She peeped through the mullioned windows at rows of baked treats of all kinds. ‘I’ve just realised I’m starving.’
Inside, they found a small room with shelves closely packed with boxes and jars. There was a delicious smell of baking that drifted in from a kitchen behind the main